


Routine

by AvengersCompound (emilyevanston)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Artist Steve Rogers, F/F, Fluff, Happy Steve Bingo, M/M, Mentions of Sex, Multi, Polyamory, Romance, Sketching, Sleep, soft steve rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-08-23 08:24:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16615415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emilyevanston/pseuds/AvengersCompound
Summary: Steve has a morning routine that involves drawing the people he loves while they sleep.





	Routine

Steve had a routine.  He hadn’t had it long but he found it centered him.  It made him feel like he was part of something.  That he was more than just Captain America.  He was a friend and a partner and he was Steve Rogers too.

It wasn’t much.  He’d wake in the morning, untangle himself from you and Bucky.  It wasn’t always easy but generally, even if he did wake one of you, the two of you would grumble and move closer to each other before falling back to sleep.  He’d meet Sam in the lobby and the two of them would go for a run.  Together this time.  He wouldn’t just charge past him trying to show off.  It was stupid after all.  He got his body through science, he didn’t really need to do anything to keep it.  As long as he practiced his combat skills, he would always be fast.  So he took his time.  Talked with Sam.  Found out about how things were going with him.  Shared his own life. Asked him for advice.  Gave him some when asked.  Joked with each other.  Teased each other.

Then they grabbed a coffee and headed back home.  When he got back he’d shower.  He’d take his time, getting the sweat off from the run, enjoying how the steam felt when he breathed it in, and the heat felt on his muscles.  Appreciating this body he had, even with the things it had brought with it.  The feeling of not having any autonomy.  The fact he had found it hard to trust people’s intentions since he’d gotten it.  Since he got it he could see properly.  The world looked crisp and in color.  He could eat what he liked and enjoyed the flavor of it.  He could drink coffee without worrying about what it would do to him.  He could run without worrying that it would be the last thing he did.

When he got out of the shower he’d dry off and dress in just his boxers.  He’d take a seat in the recliner they kept by the window, pick up his drawing supplies and start to sketch.  It was the same thing over and over again.  When his therapist had recommended starting up drawing again, he wasn’t sure if she meant to just draw you and Bucky asleep over and over and over.

It was just every morning he saw something new.  Something that had it’s own beauty.  He would try a different technique.  Or he’d use a different medium.  It was never the same twice and he couldn’t help but want to capture it and keep that for himself.

Besides, this was his safe place.   Here in this room with you and Bucky, he could be naked and vulnerable and he never had to worry.  He knew here, he was safe and loved.  Even though what you had was not exactly normal, here in this room he felt the most normal of all.  He could be either weak or strong here.  He could give in to his desires.  He could laugh, and cry and be held or do the holding.  He could make sounds that came from a primal part of him and feel things that he didn’t allow when he stepped out the door.

He did that with the two of you and capturing your moments of peace and stillness, in that hour just before you both woke, meant something to him.

He first did it when you’d both slept over together for the first time.  He had seen you both sleeping on your own before that but there was something magical about seeing you together.  Alone Bucky always looked tense and vulnerable.  Like he was either expecting something to hurt him or he was ready to get up and start fighting.  With you beside him, his muscles were relaxed and he allowed himself to stretch out and tangle his limbs with yours.  Alone you always seemed to be reaching out and searching for the missing person.  You slept light and woke early.  When Bucky was there you curled up tightly against him, with your arm draped over his waist.  You curled into the crook of his arm.  You let yourself be spooned.

That first time it had been raining overnight and when he’d come back in, in his soaked running shoes, he’d seen you both just cocooned in a pile of blankets with only your hair visible.  You’d looked so cozy and comfortable he wanted to see if he could capture that on paper.  He’d used charcoal that time, trying to get that play of shadow and light that was happening thanks to the overcast morning.

Since then there were sketchpads full of drawings.  Graphite drawings on hot summers days where you both starfished out in the nude but still had a hand on each other.  Colored pencils sketches of fall mornings where Bucky was spooning you and you had your face buried in his chest.  Watercolor pencils of spring mornings where you were both naked under a heavy blanket with a foot sticking out each side.  He had pictures of you drawn in bright colored matching pajamas you brought as a joke but then insisted they all wear that he’d colored with Copic markers.  He had pictures of you naked and disheveled drawn in chalk.  Pages and pages of different poses and lighting and various states of sleep.

Drawing them made him happy.  They made him see you both as relaxed and vulnerable as you got.  He put part of himself in those drawings.  His love for you both.  The contentment he felt since the three of you had decided to go ahead with the rather unconventional relationship you were in.

Today the weather was cool but clear.  The perfect weather for a run.  He and Sam had talked about the photo opportunity at the homeless shelter they hoped would get more people donating time and money to running.  They talked about the girl Sam had been seeing for the last two weeks and if he thought it was serious or not.  They talked about whether or not children were a thing they could hope to even want, living the life they had chosen for themselves.

When he got back he’d showered and come into the bedroom to find you lying half on top of Bucky with your face pushed into his neck.  One of his arms was splayed out and the other was curled around your waist.  The blankets were mostly on a heap on the floor except for one that had caught on Bucky’s foot and there was a strip of light streaming in through the window and playing over your waists.

He sat down in the recliner and took out his art supplies.  Today he would try pastels.

Around 40 minutes passed as he sat sketching the two of you, trying to get the colors just right.  The only sound in the room the hum of the buildings vents, the deep breathing of you and Bucky, and the scratch of pastels against parchment.  Slowly the picture took shape.  Not that it was a photo-realistic version of the two of you or anything. He did feel he was getting that soft lazy relaxed feeling in the room and the real beauty he saw in you both.

You began to stir and your eyes fluttered open.  You looked up at him and smiled sleepily.  You and Bucky were no strangers to waking to see him drawing.

“Morning, my love.”  You whispered.

“Morning, sweetheart.  Did you sleep well?” Steve asked.

You hummed and untangled yourself from Bucky.  He rolled onto his stomach as he chased you in his sleep and then sprawled out.  Steve knew he would wake soon.  Empty beds were not a friend on Bucky’s.  You came over to the recliner and crawled into his lap.  He wrapped an arm around you and put his hand on your thigh, leaving a colorful handprint on your skin.  You looked at the picture he’d been drawing.  “I really like this one.”  You said, your voice still heavy with sleep.

“Mmm… I like it too.  Felt good today.  Like we get to keep this.”  He said.

You looked up and him and kissed his jaw.  “That’s a very good morning.” You touched your finger onto the paper and then rubbed the pigment that clung to your skin between your fingertips.  “You’ll have to set it.”

He nodded.  “I will.  When Buck wakes up.” He put the sketchpad and pastels aside and pulled you closer to him. He cupped your jaw leaving a print on your face.  “For now, I have a better idea.”

“Do you now?”  You teased, leaning in and rubbing your nose on his.

He smiled and for a moment he just looked into your eyes and felt content.  He has his routine.  He went for a run with Sam.  He took a shower.  He sketched.  Soon he’d make breakfast with you both.   Right now though was when he got to wake you both up.  He leaned in and the two of you kissed.


End file.
